The Butterfly Club Read online

‘Well, in the long summer holidays I like to explore different countries. I’m planning a trip to Japan next year. I’m trying to learn a little Japanese, but without much success so far. This last summer I went to Australia.’

  ‘Did you see any kangaroos and koalas?’ I asked.

  ‘Only in a zoo. But I was surprised to encounter herds of camels out in the Australian bush. And I desperately wanted to see a Tasmanian devil, but I didn’t get lucky. Which was possibly just as well as they’re very fierce animals.’

  ‘Do you go away at Christmas and Easter too, Miss Lovejoy?’

  ‘I’m having a little skiing holiday this Christmas. And at Easter I’m planning a long weekend in Paris,’ she said dreamily.

  Selma and I looked at each other. We tried to imagine Miss Lovejoy skiing and had to bite our lips to stop laughing out loud. This Miss Lovejoy on holiday sounded like a different person altogether.

  ‘Where do you go on holiday, Selma?’ I asked.

  Selma suddenly went as stiff as her spade. ‘All over,’ she said quickly.

  ‘Yes, but where?’

  ‘Seaside.’

  ‘In Norfolk?’

  ‘Nah, not boring old Norfolk. We go to Spain and Italy and all them foreign places. Paris.’

  ‘You went to the seaside in Paris?’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, so what?’

  I knew Selma was fibbing again. I’d been to Paris on a special holiday for poorly children. Mum and Dad and Phil and Maddie had come too. We went to EuroDisney. Paris wasn’t anywhere near the seaside.

  I was about to tell her this triumphantly when I saw Miss Lovejoy frown at me. Frown at me quite fiercely.

  So I didn’t say anything. I went on digging. I’d cleared up all the horrible litter, and now I was chief uprooter of weeds. Whenever it rained hard overnight and made the earth softer I did a bit of digging too, but only with the little spade.

  Later that day, at going-home time, Miss Lovejoy stopped me as I skipped out of the classroom.

  ‘Good girl for holding your tongue about Paris, Tina,’ she whispered. ‘I could see you were absolutely bursting to say you knew it didn’t have a seaside.’

  ‘But why did you want me to keep quiet when you knew Selma was telling fibs?’

  ‘I didn’t think it would be tactful to make her look silly. It was all my fault anyway. I should never have started burbling on about holidays.’

  I stared at her. Fancy Miss Lovejoy admitting she was at fault! In class she made out that she was absolutely perfect and always right.

  I still didn’t understand.

  ‘I don’t think Selma ever goes on holidays,’ Miss Lovejoy told me.

  ‘What? Not in the summer?’ I asked.

  ‘Not ever. Selma’s family . . . struggles. She’s not a lucky girl like you, Tina.’

  I stared. I’d never been called lucky before. I was the scrawny little sick girl, the one who nearly died, the child who wasn’t good at lessons, the triplet who was far smaller than her sisters. I was lucky?

  ‘Yes, lucky,’ Miss Lovejoy repeated. ‘You’ve got lovely sisters who are very kind to you, and a mother who cares so much about you that she comes and beards the old dragon in her den.’

  How did Miss Lovejoy know Mum called her the old dragon!

  I gave a little snigger.

  ‘And I’m sure you have a lovely father who’s always very gentle with you,’ Miss Lovejoy continued. ‘And I know you have a very pretty bedroom and lots of toys and story books. You’re allowed to keep pet hamsters. You bring very tasty, nourishing packed lunches to school. You always wear clean, carefully ironed clothes with bright white socks and polished shoes. You’ve been taught manners and how to speak nicely. You’re very lucky, Tina. Think about it.’

  She gestured for me to go, and I caught up with Phil and Maddie. I did think about it all the way home. I thought about scary Mrs Johnson who hit Selma. She didn’t have a dad – she’d had different stepdads and they all sounded very fierce. Her whole family looked fierce, even her little brothers.

  I didn’t know what her bedroom was like, but I couldn’t imagine it being pink and white and pretty. I could see for myself that Selma didn’t have nice clothes. Her skirt was so old it was shiny at the back and her hem hung down. Her school sweatshirt never got washed at the weekend, so it had stains down the front and grubby sleeves. She didn’t have any socks at all, she just wore grubby trainers. They were too tight for her – when she had to take them off for dance and drama there were red marks at her heels and her toes looked sore. And her feet smelled.

  Phil and Maddie and I always had a laugh together about Selma’s smelly feet, but now it didn’t seem quite so funny. I started to feel a bit sorry for Selma, even though she was still the meanest girl ever.

  When we were gardening she was still mean to me sometimes, especially when Miss Lovejoy was on playground duty.

  ‘You’re still useless at digging, Little Bug,’ she said.

  ‘You’re so little. My brother Sam’s only three, but he’s bigger than you,’ she said.

  ‘You and your sisters think you’re so great but you’re rubbish. You’re all spoiled lah-di-dah babies,’ she said.

  Each mean thing she said made my stomach clench, as if she’d poked me hard with her spade. Sometimes I nearly cried, but I couldn’t because that would make her jeer at me even more.

  She never actually poked me with the spade, though sometimes she picked it up and aimed it at me like a machine gun. I knew it was only pretend but I couldn’t help squealing all the same.

  But then I discovered a marvellous way of getting my own back! Selma was frightened of worms!

  We hadn’t found any worms at all when the earth was still baked hard. But now that it was softer and we could dig deeper, we suddenly came across some.

  ‘Yuck!’ said Selma, and she threw her spade down and ran off. ‘Worms!’

  ‘Worms are a wonderful help for gardeners,’ said Miss Lovejoy. ‘They process the earth for us. It goes in at one end and comes out the other, which makes it much better quality.’

  ‘That’s disgusting,’ said Selma. ‘I’m not digging no more, not if there are worms!’

  ‘I’m not frightened of worms. I think they’re interesting,’ I told her.

  ‘I bet you are frightened!’

  ‘No I’m not. Look!’ I bent down and picked up the biggest, wriggliest, pinkest worm and cupped it in my hand.

  ‘Eew!’ said Selma, keeping her distance.

  I brought my hand up, as if I were going to throw a ball. Selma screamed and ducked.

  ‘Tina!’ said Miss Lovejoy. ‘Put that worm back in the earth!’

  ‘I wasn’t really going to throw it at Selma,’ I said. Well, I was considering it, but I didn’t think it would be very kind to the worm.

  ‘I should hope not.’ Miss Lovejoy was trying to look shocked, but her mouth was twitching as if she wanted to laugh.

  Selma went on digging very cautiously. Soon she screamed again.

  ‘Another worm, Selma?’ I said. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort it. Come on, little wormy. Let’s find you another bit of earth, away from that nasty spade. Here, boy. There!’

  ‘You’re nuts,’ said Selma weakly.

  But now, whenever she started being mean, I just scrabbled in the earth, looking for a worm. She shut up as soon as I found one. Gardening was a lot more peaceful now.

  One playtime Harry kicked the football so hard it came bouncing right over to our garden. At that very moment Selma dug up a whole writhing knot of worms. She was shrieking her head off.

  Harry came running up to get the ball. He stared at Selma. ‘What’s the matter with her?’ he asked me. Then he saw the worms. ‘Wow, look at those worms! Is that why you’re yelling, Selma? Are you scared of worms?’

  Selma shut up. She bit her lip.

  ‘She is scared, isn’t she, Tina?’ said Harry, laughing.

  I hesitated. I liked Harry so much. I wanted to join in the joke and